Home for the Holidays
by MGMK
Summary: It's Christmas time! (Maya-verse)


**Disclaimer: **Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note: **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all. Thanks for reading. And thank you to my beta for looking this over for me.

* * *

It's a week before the big day and Santana is _fa-reaking _out.

You see, Brittany always gets her awesome gifts, mostly because they're ones Santana would never think of for herself but they still work out perfectly. Like the year she bought Santana that old time record player that only played vinyl records and Santana was kind of thrown off because, like, seriously? What's the point anymore? But the first time she heard Winehouse – Brittany'd had her greatest hits transcribed onto an LP for her – coming out of those tinny speakers it was like a special kind of magic.

Brittany probably remembers that gift really well too 'cause, you know, _so_ many orgasms.

Anyway, so Brittany's kind of a genius when it comes to gift-giving and Santana's kind of…not.

Personally, she thinks she just over-thinks it.

She plans and schemes and observes Brittany like a hawk before Valentine's day, or her birthday, or their anniversaries in hopes to uncover some pressing need or desire that Brittany has so that she can package said need or desire and present it to her wife with a smile and a pretty bow.

But…

That's not always the greatest strategy she has to admit.

'Cause Brittany's a sucker for those as seen on TV commercials but she rarely, if ever, maintains interest in whatever it is, ergo, one of the pantries in their kitchen is a "clever gadget graveyard".

And Brittany's sarcastic tone is almost dead similar to her serious tone and usually Santana totally knows the difference because, hello, she _knows_ Brittany, okay? But maybe her gift-giving anxiety completely throws her off her game because how else can she explain purposefully buying Brittany a grill?

(And _no_, not a cooking grill; she could explain that away as a practical gift at least. She actually got Brittany a mouth grill, like the rappers wear.

The look on Brittany's face when she opened that particular gift was pretty crazy – not disappointed, really, but shocked – and Santana felt like the biggest moron on the planet.

Whatevs. She knows Brittany loves her more than anything, because she totally rocked the thing to Christmas morning mass like a trooper.)

However, the tables were set to turn this year.

Santana had come up with the one-hundred percent, fool-proof, perfect gift for Brittany: an American Express gift card.

She was so proud of herself for having come up with such a clever gift idea – not to mention the fact that she'd gotten it with so much time to spare, that she bragged about it the moment she was on the phone with Quinn, her long-time friend rambling about how she couldn't think of a single thing to buy Rachel.

And that pride lasted about all of five seconds when Quinn had haphazardly thrown out, "Yeah, I thought about that, too. But I thought it'd be too impersonal."

And if Quinn thinks getting a gift card for her _friend_ is impersonal, then Santana _definitely_ can't give it to her freaking soul mate.

She's pretty sure if she did that God would like, cry or something.

So, that leads her to here, now, and this moment – shuffling through the throngs of Christmas shoppers with Mike Chang as they peruse through Lima Mall.

She was going to go with Sam originally but Trouty's still on the other side of the world trying to take a baby so Mike it is.

He's not a bad second choice: he's just…almost as inept as her when it comes to gift-giving.

(Actually, he's probably worse because even Santana can see that a turtleneck fashioned to resemble an actual turtle shell does not a good gift make.)

"What?" Mike says when she frowns at him. He holds the hideous green thing against his chest. "I think this is awesome. Britt would love it."

"Question: dance-y pants," Santana starts, fixing him with a serious look. "Would you give anyone you plan on sleeping with in the near future something like that?"

"Well, no-"

"Point made. Put it down," she directs, brushing past him easily as she moves on to another store.

"I don't get why you wanted me here when you're obviously not going to follow any of my suggestions," Mike complains.

"I thought that you'd, you know, know Brittany enough to know what she likes and stop me from getting her something stupid," Santana explains, sounding a bit disheartened as the sentence goes on.

"There's nothing you can get Brittany that she'd think is stupid, Santana," Mike says gently, wearing that goofy, teasing smile she hates – and secretly loves – so much. "You're like her forever, favorite person. You could get her, I don't know, bunny slippers and she'd cherish the things to death. You have to know this."

"I do," Santana nods. "I do know this. It's just…this year has been so great, you know?" she says, her eyes flitting around as she nervously spills her feelings to someone other than Brittany. "There's been Maya, and my career, and Britt's finding her love of dance again…and she's been so perfect; like, every step of the way. She's been the rock, Mike. And I just…I just want to get her something to show that I appreciate that."

She shrugs a little, embarrassed, but Mike just smiles, not minding. "Maybe you should just tell her."

Santana's brows furrow, not following. "What?"

"C'mon," Mike says, dragging her across the courtyard. "I've got an idea."

***o*O*o***

"Pro: believing in magic inspires creativity and imagination. And some of the most ingenious and inventive persons in history have been known to have active imaginations as children."

"Con: she'll find out he's not real and she'll cry."

"She will not."

"You cried."

"I didn't," Brittany protests grumpily, before adding quietly, "Well, not that much anyway."

"You cried and were in a bad mood and for years after you got just a little bit snippy at your parents around Christmas time," Santana continues, still sorting out their holiday cards.

(They're sending pictures of them this year. She and Brittany are standing under the mistletoe, kissing, while Maya looks up at them from Santana's arms.)

"Now, I most definitely did not do that," Brittany refutes.

"You gave your dad fruit cake," Santana deadpans, turning from the desk to find Brittany staring at their bedspread sheepishly. She grins. "And you know who hates fruit cake?"

Brittany's lips twist and Santana chuckles knowingly. "My dad," Brittany finally answers, rolling her eyes at herself. "Ugh, fine. I was a little upset. Point taken. But that still doesn't mean Maya will be the same way. Plus, don't you remember how special you felt that Santa would take the time out of his extremely busy schedule to bring you presents? It's awesome."

"It is," Santana willingly agrees. "But so is knowing that your parents lovingly scoured the stores with other rabid Christmas shoppers to find that Barbie Dreamhouse with the working elevator."

Brittany pouts. "You're bah-humbugging all over the place, San."

"I'm just playing Devil's Advocate, sweetie," Santana answers cutely.

"What have I told you about mentioning anything remotely-related to Keanu Reeves in places we have sex at?"

"That I shouldn't do it because then you'd be unable to get that emotionless, blank-faced stare his has out of your head when we're fucking?"

"No," Brittany says, pushing up from the bed. "I said 'making love'," she corrects, walking over and kissing the crown of Santana's head quickly. "So, we're still undecided on Santa, huh?"

"Seems like it," Santana answers, not sounding very concerned. "Should we send one to Rachel and Finn that says Mr. and Mrs. Rachel Berry."

Brittany swats her shoulder playfully. "Santana, that's mean." Then, "I wonder who'd be who?"

***o*O*o***

"Ooh," Maya coos, pointing out of the window from her car seat. "Pwetty, Mama, look."

"I see," Santana nods, swiveling a little in her chair to look at the youngster. "Do you like the lights, Maya?"

Maya nods, still staring in wonder, her shining eyes reflecting the decorated homes they pass on the way to the tree lot.

They're tree hunting this afternoon and Brittany means hunting.

Santana's kind of crazy when it comes to tree selecting – always has been – but Brittany always thinks it's cute so it's completely okay.

"Now remember, Britt. This tree has to be perfect," Santana says, now directing her attention back to her wife. "Not too big but I don't want anything, like, Charlie Brown Christmas scrawny either. The greener the better, obviously and it should be fuller than Berry is of herself, 'kay?"

"Got it," Brittany nods, laughing lightly as she pulls into an empty parking space. "But you do know there's no such thing as a perfect tree, don't you?"

"There's one out there that's perfect for us," Santana says in answer, already halfway out of the car.

Brittany looks back at Maya. "Your Mama's about to go a little crazy," she tells her, pulling a face which Maya giggles at.

"Britt," Santana calls from outside the car, impatient as ever. "Come on. Chop. Chop."

"Let's go, Pumpkin," Brittany says, hopping out of the car quickly before moving to the backseat to unbuckle Maya.

It doesn't take them long to catch up to Santana and Brittany smiles when she hears her wife muttering to herself about the proportions of a particular tree.

"Mama, look," Maya points at the snow covered pines and firs with wonder. "A twee!"

"I know," Brittany nods, kissing her cheek while Santana whips out her tape measure. "There are a lot of trees here. And we're gonna pick one and take it home."

Maya stares at Brittany bewilderedly, her little nose turning just a tad pink from the cold. "Home?"

"Yep," Brittany nods again, then gestures to a fully decorated tree, the embellishments and lights on the unusually large fir making it all the more prominent in the middle of the lot. "Then we're going to make it pretty like that one. As soon as your mama finds one she likes," Brittany calls a little louder then, grinning cutely when Santana cuts her eyes at her playfully.

"Down?" Maya requests then, pushing out of Brittany's arms slightly and her mom acquiesces, Maya's little boots crunching in the light layer of snow that's accumulated.

She toddles over to her other mother, the snow making her work hard for it, but soon she's crashing into Santana's legs, tugging at the hem of Santana's long overcoat.

"Mama!" Maya calls, still tugging. "Want that?" she says, pointing again at the huge tree with the decorations.

"Oh, sweetie," Brittany says with a laugh, having watch the entire exchange. "We can't actually take _that_ tree."

But then Brittany notices the glint in Santana's eyes, watching her wife grin the devious little grin she knows so well.

Santana picks Maya up, sidling her comfortably against her hip, determination swelling in her eyes.

"Santana, honey," Brittany says, her voice wary, "You can't be actually considering-"

"Our baby girl wants that tree, Britt-Britt," Santana says coolly, "And I'm going to get it for her."

Santana marches off toward the sale processing stand, barely disturbing the snow as she goes and Brittany…Brittany trails after.

Slowly.

This can either end really well or end with a Snix appearance – in which it would still end really well, in Brittany's opinion because Snix is hot and they'd definitely still be leaving with the tree.

***o*O*o***

In the end, Snix didn't really have to show up at all.

Brittany has to smile when she thinks back on it.

"_Hi," the salesman greets with a smile, looking at them all in turn. "How can I help you all today?"_

"_We're ready to purchase our tree," Santana answers quickly. "We've already picked it out."_

"_Okay then," the man says kindly, stepping out of the booth. "Which one did you pick?"_

"_That one."_

_Brittany bites back a smile when the man's eyes go wide as saucers._

"_Uh," he smiles again. "I'm sorry Miss, but that's our display tree."_

_Santana nods. "I know."_

"_Well, I mean," the man stutters, "It's not exactly for sale."_

"_I don't understand. It's a tree. On a tree lot. Where you sell trees." Santana tries to play dumb. "Why is it not for sale?"_

"_Because we use it to motivate our customers to buy trees here," he says like it's obvious – because it is. "You know, a little advertisement?"_

"_Oh," Santana says, "Well it worked very well. So we'll take it. We'll pay you extra for the lights and decorations of course."_

"_Look," the man says, scratching his neck, "I'd like to sell you the tree but I just can't, Miss. It's against our policy. Plus it's been up there a while. It's not fresh. I can get you the same sized tree and everything, discounted even."_

_Santana raises one eyebrow, Maya still wrapped up in her arms. "Are you really telling me no right now?"_

_Brittany takes a step back – maybe two._

_The man swallows. "Afraid so, m-m-ma'am."_

_Right when Santana's preparing to launch into a tirade so scathing, so derisive, so cutting that the man will want to either die on the spot or move to another country, Maya lets loose a little whimper._

_Santana and Brittany instantly focus in on the little girl, and Maya looks to be on the verge of tears, her lower lip pouting out just so. _

"_Mama," the baby hiccups, pointing at the tree, "Mama. Want," she says sadly, her tiny voice barely stuttering out._

_Santana's again preparing to do some verbal damage when-_

"_Britt," Santana says, looking on with wide eyes as Brittany roughly pushes past the man and sets to the task of taking down the tree. "Brittany," she hisses, "What are you doing?"_

"_I'm taking this tree," Brittany grunts, pulling it loose from its moorings and unplugging the lights. "And I wish, I _wish _someone would try to stop me," she adds when she sees other workers encroaching a little._

_They smartly stay away._

_Santana smiles smugly at the man, leaning her cheek against the top of Maya's cap-covered head. "Let's go warm up the car, Princess."_

_Brittany drags the tree behind her, leaving a trail in the snow as she glares at the man. "And I'm not paying for it either," she tosses over her shoulder, adding in a grumble, "Bastard gonna make _my_ Pumpkin cry. No, I don't think so."_

"Mama got twee!" Maya shouts excitedly from her car seat, breaking Brittany out of her reverie. "Mama yay!"

Santana smiles at Brittany, giving her thigh a squeeze. "She sure did, baby girl."

***o*O*o***

"Alright, how about this?" Brittany suggests, relaxing back in the oversized tub. "We tell her that there is a Santa, but he only brings her a couple of things and we supply the rest. The best of both worlds, right?"

Santana slides her toothbrush back into the holder before slinking over to the tub and sliding down beside it, bath-robe still snug on her frame. "Or, we could just tell her the truth."

Brittany sighs, slumping further under the water. "Why are you fighting me so hard on this?"

"Britt, don't we want Maya to always tell the truth?" she asks, her fingers tickling the wet skin on Brittany's knee. "How are we going to expect her to do that if we spend the whole of her childhood lying to her about some creepy man in a snow suit?"

"Santana," Brittany gasps, sitting up suddenly, "Santa is _not_ creepy."

"Oh, come on, baby. There is something incredibly creepy about an old white guy stalking kids."

"He doesn't stalk kids."

"_He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake_," Santana sings, flicking some water at Brittany's face. "Cree-py."

"Ugh," Brittany groans, settling back down. "You suck so bad right now."

"I don't," Santana says smoothly, pushing up into a standing position while fixing Brittany with a heated stare. "Not yet at least."

Brittany's head tilts to the side as she looks at Santana questioningly. "Where are you going? I thought you were going to join me."

"No, I said I'd come with you if you asked nice," Santana teases, undoing the knot of her robe and slipping the item off her shoulders, swallowing the laugh that wants to break out at Brittany's shocked expression. "Now, tell me, Britt-Britt, have you been naughty? Or nice?"

Brittany's face turns as red as the lace bra and panties Santana has on. "What did you do?" she asks slowly, unable to stop from staring.

"You like?" Santana asks, pleased with Brittany's reaction.

It takes a long time before Brittany meets her eyes again. "What's behind that bow?"

"Maybe you should," Santana tugs lightly at the ribbon, playful, "unwrap it and find out."

Brittany knocks about a gallon of water over the edge of the tub in her haste to get out.

You don't have to tell her twice.

***o*O*o***

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Rachel asks, puffing hot breath into her mitten-covered hands.

She's only lived in two places all her life and both of them have been privy to cold winters – you'd think she'd gotten used to the cooler temperatures but _no_.

"It's better if you don't know until we get there," Brittany answers, biting her lip worriedly.

"Brittany, I know we've had our differences, but-"

"God, Rachel, shut up a minute," Brittany says in exasperation, her nerves making her patience all the more strained.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says quietly after a minute, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

"No, I'm sorry," Brittany says, sighing softly. "It's not your fault I'm walking on ant shells. You're no more annoying than you usually are."

"…thanks, I think."

They drive along in silence for a little while until they turn down a familiar quiet block – well, familiar to Brittany; Rachel still has no clue where their destination is – and then Brittany starts drumming on the steering wheel.

Her nerves are completely shot.

"Brittany?" Rachel asks when the blonde woman just stops driving in the middle of the street.

"This was a bad idea," Brittany mumbles, seemingly frozen.

"What was?"

"Santana's Christmas present," Brittany answers, still somewhat distracted.

"Well, that's ridiculous," Rachel says dismissively, before thinking on it, "Unless of course your gift was to murder me. If that's the case, then yes, I agree. Horrible idea."

"That's Santana's abuela's house," Brittany says, nodding in the distance. She stares in a trance at the small brick bungalow, a trail of wispy smoke floating out of the meager chimney. "I was going to ask her to join us all for Christmas dinner. It was gonna be the best gift because I know at times like these Santana really misses her, you know? But now…now it just seems stupid. I mean, they haven't spoken in _years_."

Brittany's so caught up in her own worry that she neglects to notice the look on Rachel's face.

It's the same look she wore in high school when she went to confront Sue Sylvester solo.

The same one she wore when she called out Perez Hilton on national television.

The same one she wore when she _thankfully_ didn't marry Finn her freshman year of college.

(Those two _desperately_ needed some time apart.)

Anyway, Brittany misses it so before she knows it, Rachel's out of the still idle car, marching through the snow with a purpose and with clear direction.

The door's open when Brittany finally catches back up to her.

"Can I help you?" Santana's grandma asks, looking at Rachel strangely.

"Hello, Ma'am. You don't know me but I'm a friend of your granddaughter's-"

"You're a friend of Santanita's," the woman asks, confused. "I find that hard to believe."

Brittany, in spite of her nerves, actually snort-laughs at that, but the moment of levity quickly flees when Santana's grandmother is looking at her.

Her eyes harden.

"Oh, I see," the older woman says, almost sneering. "You two are _friends _of Santana."

"Hi Ab…" Brittany starts before switching gears, "I mean, Mrs. …Santana's grandma. I was hoping we could have a little talk if you have the time."

"No," the woman says, starting to close the door, but Rachel – as tiny as she is – has reflexes like a cat and the strength of a lion because she easily holds the door open.

"Now, you wait just one minute, Brittany and I did not travel for miles-"

"Rachel," Brittany whispers, "It's like a ten minute drive."

"…and brave these blustery conditions-"

"And it's like, forty degrees."

"…to be turned away without being heard. So, you're _going_ to listen to what Brittany has to say."

The older woman steps forward slightly. "Oh, am I?" she asks, threateningly.

Rachel shrinks. "I mean, can we please have a minute of your time, Ma'am?"

"That's what I thought," the woman says, smirking somewhat and the look is so eerily familiar Brittany almost shudders. "Very well, Brittany. Since you insist. What did you have to say?"

"Can't we come inside?" Rachel asks, before Brittany can start talking and Brittany wants to smack her.

Santana's abuela looks like she wants to, too. But years of manners win out instead and she steps aside, letting them into her home.

Brittany and Rachel shuffle past her awkwardly; Well, Brittany does. Rachel strolls in like she owns the place.

"Oh my gosh," she gasps, picking up a silver framed picture from the living room coffee table. "Is this Santana?" she asks, her eyes alit with amusement.

Brittany can't help but smile at the little candid; tiny Santana covered in pasta sauce and spaghetti noodles.

"Put that down," Abuela hisses, snatching it out of her hands and putting it back.

"Sorry," Rachel comments as if burned, but then quickly smiles again. "But how adorable was that?" she says to Brittany. "Now I know where her BreadstiX obsession comes from."

"Is she always so…" Abuela mimes a chatterbox with her hands, directing the question at Brittany and the blonde nods, barely managing a smile.

"In that case," Rachel says, finally feeling the tension in the room, "I'm just going to go right over here." She gestures to the small foyer. "Brittany," she adds as an afterthought, "Holler if you need me, girlfriend."

Brittany nods at her slowly, shaking her head a little when she's finally out of sight.

"So," Brittany sighs.

"So," Abuela echoes.

"Alright, I'll try to make this short," Brittany starts, her words chasing one another as they come out of her mouth, "Because I know you don't really want me here."

When the woman makes no move to disagree, Brittany plows ahead.

"And I know you don't really approve of Santana and me," she continues, "But I was hoping, with it being Christmas that you'd, you know, come for a quick visit. Or we could come see you," Brittany rushes out. "I mean, it'd mean so much to Santana and-"

"Let me stop you right there, Brittany," the woman says, holding up her hand. "The answer is no."

Brittany, though she expected the response all along, can't keep her face from falling. "No?"

The older woman laughs, though she has enough heart that it's humorless. "Did you honestly believe that _you_ could convince me to do something my own son and granddaughter cannot?"

Brittany, for the first time in a long time, feels stupid. "Well no…I just thought…she misses you so much."

"Santanita has made her choice," the woman cuts her off, her voice clipped, "…and so have I. So if that's all you've come to ask…" Abuela rises from her chair with some effort.

"Yeah," Brittany nods, dejectedly, rising as well. "Come on, Rachel," she calls. "You can stop pretending not to listen."

"I wasn't," Rachel says, poking her head back into the room briefly before ducking back out. Then, back in again, "But if I had I would only like to add that being homosexual is not a life choice or decision."

Brittany actually throws an arm around the shorter woman when she reaches her. "Thanks a lot, Rachel," she says, meaning it.

And Rachel – God, leave it to Rachel – actually gets choked up over it.

"Oh my…I don't…I need a tissue," she breathes, reaching into her clutch as they make their way out the door.

"Brittany!" Abuela calls, surprising the woman with her sudden proximity.

There's a package in her hands and they tremble as they hold it out for Brittany to take.

Brittany stares at her oddly, not knowing what to make of what's happening and the older woman looks at a loss for what to say.

"You…you left this," she finally manages, swallowing thickly just after.

Brittany's brow furrows. "But I didn't-"

"Just, take it, Brittany," Rachel says pointedly, sharing an awkward smile with Abuela. "Thank you," she says, speaking for both Brittany and herself.

Abuela nods, her composure returned. "Feliz Navidad, girls."

***o*O*o***

"Hurry up and get out here you slow pokes," Brittany calls from the backyard.

She carefully steps out of her snow angel, trying not to ruin it and then smiling at her handiwork.

At long last their back door opens and Santana and Maya step out onto the deck.

Well, Santana steps.

Maya waddles.

"Ha haa," Brittany's laugh rings out. "Where's my Pumpkin?" she asks playfully and Maya tries to raise her arms but the scarf and winter coat…and the sweater under that…and the thermal shirt under that prevents her from doing so.

"Can she even breathe under all of that?" Brittany asks Santana teasingly as her wife and daughter carefully trudge over to her.

"Shut up," Santana murmurs, just a little embarrassed. "I don't want her catching a cold."

Brittany peels the scarf over Maya's mouth down a little bit to hear what the little girl is saying. "Here Maya, Mama!"

"I see you Pumpkin," Brittany smiles, tapping Maya's nose gently.

"Aw, Britt," Santana complains, staring into the snow. "You started making an angel already?"

"That's just a practice one," Brittany says with a wave of her hand, kicking at the outline in the snow. "I was waiting on you two to make the real ones."

"Okay, Maya first," Santana says, actually giddy about the idea of playing in the snow.

As quiet as it's kept, Santana's actually a big fan of ventures like these but she'd kill Brittany if the blonde ever told anyone that.

Santana lays her down in the snow, coaching her to wiggle her arms and legs about in a fan-like motion, and Brittany watches them both with an awed smile, never ever, it seems, going to become accustomed to life she has.

It still feels like a dream.

Maya laughs pleasantly, kicking out her feet and arms to her heart's delight.

"Okay, Princess," Santana says, reaching down to help her up. "Let's see how you did."

Maya looks down on her angel with a slackened jaw.

"Whoa," Brittany comments, playing it up. "Maya, Pumpkin, that's really cool."

Maya stares for a moment longer before clapping wildly, her mittens making the sound almost non-existent. "Yay Maya!" she squeals madly.

"Yeah, baby girl," Santana laughs, scooping her up. "You did really good. Now, who should go next?"

Maya's eyes sparkle. "Mama nest."

"Okay," Brittany says, smirking a little. "Which one?"

Maya looks confused and Santana bumps Brittany's hip with hers. "Why are you messing with her? We said we wouldn't push."

"I just wanna see what's she's gonna do," Brittany explains.

Maya looks between both her parents, not knowing what to do but then she gestures to be put down again.

She pushes at Santana's legs. "Mama nest," she repeats, pushing insistently until Santana's feet start moving.

Brittany bursts out laughing. "She's so smart, San."

"Just like her mother," Santana says in response, sitting down in the snow, grunting out a laugh when Maya plops down onto her stomach. "Like 'dis Mama," the little girl explains, twisting around cutely.

Brittany waits until they're both distracted before she scoops up a big ball of snow, sneakily crunching through the yard until she's standing just over Santana.

Then-

"ARRGGHHH!"

Santana leaps up so furiously that Maya's tipped over sideways into the snow, her silent giggles making her shoulders shake and Brittany takes off running in the other direction, laughing.

Santana shakes the snow out of her hair, her smile growing exponentially. "So that's how it's gonna be Brittany Susan?" she says, gathering a pack of snow in her hand.

"You left yourself wide open, baby," Brittany laughs, hiding behind the lone tree in their yard.

"Come from behind there and take your punishment like a woman," Santana yells, just barely missing her on her first throw.

Brittany ducks, taunting Santana by sticking her tongue out but then shrieking when Santana advances on her quickly.

"The deck is safe, the deck is safe," Brittany laughs out, bee-lining for the thing but Santana's always been faster than her – especially in the snow – and before she knows it she's being yanked down onto a pile of billowy softness, her jacket being stuffed with handful after handful of white fluff.

"How. Do. You. Like. It?" Santana says with every handful and Brittany just laughs, giving up.

Maya, having finally righted herself, tries to cover the short distance to them but ends up falling over onto her butt into the snow again, cracking herself up in the process.

And that's how they spend the rest of the afternoon, falling – literally – in love in the snow.

***o*O*o***

**Christmas Eve**

"Last chance to change your mind," Brittany says, rolling over onto Santana as they finally settle into bed.

Dinner at the elder Pierces was uneventful…or as uneventful as uneventful can be at the elder Pierces.

Something burned to a char and Tubbs lost about five pounds running away from Maya all day but aside from that, things were peachy.

Santana snorts, wiggling a little underneath the weight of her wife. "If you really want to do Santa, we can do Santa, Britt-Britt."

"Then what was up with all the questions, then?" Brittany asks, a little annoyed.

"I just wanted you to think about what all was at stake if we went down that road," Santana answers, bringing up her arms to lock them around Brittany's waist. "It's wonderfully magical in the beginning, but then comes the reality check. But I'm okay with Maya believing in Santa for a little while."

Brittany smiles, her eyes dancing. "Me too," she whispers, leaning down to kiss Santana once, twice.

"Question," she says, suddenly.

"Answer," Santana teases.

"If we get it on on Christmas Eve, does Clarence get his wings?"

"No," Santana laughs, her cheeks dimpling, "But I'll have a _very_ merry Christmas."

Brittany leans back in, "Santa'd better not be watching."

***o*O*o***

**Christmas Morning**

Thump!

Th-thump!

THUMP!

Santana's eye cracks open just barely, her ears having picked up on the noise crackling through the baby monitor.

She can hear Maya giggling quietly, probably wide awake in her crib, and underneath her Brittany's heart beats steadily, and she smiles, her head still pillowed on Brittany's naked chest.

And she keeps smiling, even though something snatches at the back of her head, tugging on her brain to remember it.

And then she does. "Oh my God," she says, springing up in bed like she's been shot out of a toaster. "Brittany," she hisses, shoving at the still blissfully sleeping woman. "Brittany, get up. We over slept."

Santana hops out of bed and scrambles to put on some clothes while Brittany grumbles something incoherently before mumbling, "We'll just take a later flight or somethin' San. Come back ta' bed."

"Brittany S. Pierce," Santana hisses, "It is Christmas morning and _Santa _left all his presents in the sleigh if you catch my drift."

"Wha-" Brittany says, finally stirring awake and quickly getting her bearings. "Uh oh," she says, getting up to speed.

"We are so the worst parents in the history of…parentdom," Santana says, throwing Brittany's shirt at her head. "We're right up there with Norman Bates' mom and Mommie Dearest."

"San, aim for a younger demo."

"Oh, uh, Dina Lohan."

"Much better."

"Mama!" Maya's voice echoes across the speaker, sending them both into a further panic.

"We'll be there in a minute, Pumpkin!" Brittany calls back, darting to the closet where they've hidden Santa's gifts.

Ten minutes, a partially sprained ankle, and a few (dozen) muttered curse words later, everything's in place under the tree and Brittany's got the camera out, ready to film Maya's reaction.

"Ready, Britt?" Santana asks, limping out with Maya trailing after her.

"I got you guys," Brittany nods, zooming in on Maya's little face as she follows Santana out, holding onto her hand.

"Look, Maya," Santana says when she knows Maya can see the tree. "I think Santa came and left you something."

Maya's quick intake of air almost knocks Brittany over it's so adorable. "Pwetty!"

"I know," Santana says, walking her over and plopping down in front of the tree, sliding the first box she can find in front of Maya. "We should open 'em."

Maya just stares at the beautifully wrapped box before sliding it back. "Huh," she says, meaning for Santana to open it.

"Okay, Mommy'll help you," Santana says, peeling back the wrapping paper carefully.

Brittany zooms in on the both of them, Maya, still standing peeking over curiously while Santana unveils whatever it is.

And as luck would have it-

Maya's mouth falls open.

Santana takes the toy out of the box, thankfully already loaded with batteries and ready to go.

"Well, would you look at that," Brittany comments with a grin, laughing when Santana's eyes meet hers.

"KITTY!" Maya yells.

"Meow," the faux cat says, loudly. Then, "Maya."

Yeah.

It's a talking, animated kitten.

It costs a freaking fortune, as far as faux animals go, but Maya's reaction…

Priceless.

The little girl clutches at her chest, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Is…May," she says, pointing at the kitten that's moving around now, ever so lifelike. "Is May. Mama," she says, grabbing for Brittany's hand and tugging on Santana's finger, "Kitty…is May!"

"Oh my God, I think she's freaking out," Santana laughs, elated with Maya's reaction.

"This is so great," Brittany chuckles, letting the camera whir away.

***o*O*o***

Maya's sitting amidst a sea of toys, still excited enough to randomly grab one and thrust it in Brittany's face, when Santana comes back from the bedroom, her wrapped present for Brittany clutched behind her back.

"Hey Britt-Britt," she calls softly, joining her wife on the couch and waiting until Brittany's focused on her before she brings it around, holding the somewhat heavy box out with two hands and smiling shyly. "Merry Christmas, baby."

Brittany's eyes light up as she takes it from her, her smile soft and genuine. "What is it?"

"Open it," Santana laughs, feeling nervous.

Brittany rattles the box, listening.

"Will you just open it?" Santana chuckles at her wife's cuteness. "You're always trying to spoil surprises."

"Am not," Brittany protests, shaking it again. "I just want to know what it is before I open it."

Santana gives her a look, no longer as nervous – which she suspects was Brittany's intention all along.

It's really nice being married to your best friend; they know you so well.

Brittany winks at her before peeling the wrapping paper away rapidly.

The white lid to the box is removed and then Brittany's blinking into the box, a confused smile on her face.

"It's a…book?"

Santana's smile falters. "Not just any book," she says quickly, taking the leather-covered book out of its resting place. "It's a story book. Like a fairy tale. About us."

She flips through a couple of pages; the illustrations covering them depict clear renditions of them at different stages in their life together.

"Oh," Brittany nods, "I get it."

Now Santana's face falls entirely. "You don't like it."

"No, I do," Brittany refutes immediately.

"You don't," Santana grumbles. "God, I suck at this so badly."

"Santana, stop it," Brittany says firmly. "This is great and I love it," she says, flipping through the book and scanning the pages. "But why are there so many blank pages?"

Santana shrugs, still a little self-conscious. "There's still a lot of story left to tell," she answers.

Brittany's eyes start to tear up as she smiles, reaching out for her wife and pulling her in closer, kissing her softly.

"Hell yeah there is."

***o*O*o***

Brittany's gotten up to the first time Santana ever told her she loved her in the book when her wife's fidgets start to get a little ridiculous.

She snorts out a laugh. "All you have to do is ask, you know?"

"Ugh," Santana groans, punching her in the arm lightly, "You're making me wait on purpose?"

"You know I love your 'worried Brittany didn't get me any swag' face."

"Bitch," Santana laughs good-naturedly, turning toward Brittany expectant. "Okay, well, where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"_Brittany_."

"Okay, okay, Mrs. Pierce," Brittany chuckles, reaching down between the couch cushions. "So impatient," she tsks, producing the package but before Santana can grab it from her, Brittany lifts it into the air.

"Hang on a sec," she says, when Santana pouts. "Just a little back story before I hand this over. Okay, so, for some reason, I thought I could somehow convince your abuela to come join us for Christmas."

Santana gasps in surprise and Brittany feels her heart twist at the hope that suddenly floods her wife's face and she instantly regrets her word choice.

"So, um, I went to see her," Brittany plows on, letting the package rest on her lap as she brings her hands up to cradle Santana's face, "…but it didn't really work like I hoped it would," she says, breaking the news as gently as possible.

Santana's eyes dart down, unable to keep the disappointment at bay.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you your family back, honey," Brittany whispers, her thumbs tracing along Santana's cheeks.

Santana sniffs and lifts her head back up, her smile watery yet indisputable. "I've got my family," she says, leaning forward to brush her nose against Brittany's. "So, what's in the box, then?" she asks when she settles back down, her eyes cutting to the package still sitting in Brittany's lap.

"I don't really know," Brittany tells her, finally putting it in her hands. "After our very brief visit, your grandma handed it to me." She shrugs lightly. "I figured it'd be better if you open it."

With Brittany's words, Santana's trepidation grows, hoping that there's not something ridiculous like Holy water or something inside.

But when she removes the paper, she finds a light gray jewelry box; one that she finds remarkably familiar.

"She didn't…" she whispers, flipping the lid open quickly and sure enough she finds what she'd expected.

"Those are really pretty," Brittany comments, the diamond necklace and earrings reflecting like magic in her eyes, and Santana works to swallow the lump in her throat, her eyes growing misty yet again as she whimpers.

"San," Brittany says, worriedly. "San, what's wrong?"

Maya, who'd been previously playing with the mountains of wrapping paper, even takes note as she toddles over with a small frown. "Mama?"

"Nothing's wrong," Santana smiles, reaching down and lifting Maya so that she's seated between them. "…Nothing at all. I'm okay. It's just, when I was a little girl… I used to stare at these for hours. And Abuela used to say, that one day, when I get married, she was going to give them to me to wear on my wedding day just like she had and her mother before her."

She smiles down at Maya who's looking at her inquisitively. "She said, one day, if I was lucky enough, I'd pass them on to my own daughter," she whispers, running her left hand through Maya's hair.

Her yes find Brittany's again. "I can't believe you did this," Santana barely says, her voice filled with so much happiness.

Brittany smiles, sheepish. "Of course I did," she says, trying to sound dismissive. "You're my ride or die chick."

Santana laughs loudly at that, wiping her cheek then she laughs for another reason altogether.

"What?" Brittany asks, smiling.

"You still got a better gift than me."


End file.
